


It's alright (to have feelings)

by nowhereminded



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned George Harrison, fluff with sort of hurt/comfort i guess?, idk man, john crying (a little), like a salad or smth, paul comforting john, paul's making dinner, probably something vegan, unspecified dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhereminded/pseuds/nowhereminded
Summary: Paul's making dinner, John's having a moment.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	It's alright (to have feelings)

"Hey, Paul, do you— do you think I'm a failure?" 

Paul stopped all his movements, his breath getting caught in his throat for a second. And here he thought he was going to have some time to himself while he cooked dinner. He put down the knife in the counter and turned around to see John. He was standing in the kitchen's doorframe, twitching like a nervous little boy. He looked like one, too— lost, insecure, shy, but desperate enough for reassurance to let the words out. Although Paul could he in his eyes he was already regretting that decision, so he waisted no more time. 

"Of course I don't. Why would I?", he asked, although he felt like he already knew the answer. There was only one person in the world able to leave John Lennon in that state: John Lennon himself. 

John was insecure. He knew that. Almost every person who knew him deeply knew that. He had trouble finding reasons why he was worthy of anything, and never failed to doubt himself. He would usually put himself down and belittle his achievements, his work. Every little comment on his work, he would only focus on the bad ones and take it personally. He ignored every compliment he recieved, as if he didn't deserve to be proud, and hid from the praises. Deep down, Paul knew no matter what he said, John would always end up listening to that evil, twisted voice in his head. 

That didn't stop him from keep trying, of course. 

When John shrugged for an answer, Paul pushed a little. He knew well that he wanted to talk about it, to get it out of his system, but didn't dare. Not yet, anyway. "Did something happen? Did... someone say something to you?"

John shrugged again, but accompanied the movement with a little nod. Ah, there. There was progress. "Who?", Paul asked, a few faces popping to his head, but neither of them had enough power on John to leave him in that state.

The older man was silent for a moment, and then he leaned on the doorframe and started playing with the hem of his shirt. "It's stupid, you know— it's just something George said", he mumbled with a humourless soft laugh. He kept playing with his shirt for a few seconds before letting it go and looking up, finally, to meet Paul's eyes. "I showed him one of my new songs, but I didn't tell him it was mine. I wanted to see his reaction first, you know? Like, I don't know, maybe if he knew I wrote it he would feel pressured to say something nice about it, and I wanted to know what he really thought about it because... Well, because I care, you know? I care about what he says, because he is a great musician and he's my friend, and...", he stopped. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face, and for a second, a tiny short one, he looked serene.

"He said it was crap", he finally spitted out, almost as if the word itself hurt his mouth. "He laughed, and I laughed too, and then we went off to— to other things. And that was it. I didn't think it had bothered me too much, I brushed it off. I tried to listen to you and not overthink, you know? Tried not to care. I did, for real, Paulie, and it was fine for the whole day, the whole fucking day! Didn't think about it again until a moment ago, when I was in the fucking sofa reading some fucking news about some stupid fucking bird that pooped on some fucking president's head and... I don't know, I just— I remembered it and— and— FUCK!"

Paul listened with intent, watching John as he started pacing through the kitchen. He waited for him to calm down and gave him a few seconds to breathe, to collect himself again. Only then he got close to him— not to touch him, but to let him know he was there, bu his side. John looked tired, hands on the counter and head hanging loose, and dear God, Paul wanted to embrace him and never let go.

"Remembered what I told you the last time you argued with Mimi, love?", he asked in a soft, comforting tone. He then waited for John to raise his head and look at him, clear confusion in his eyes, before continuing. "Yeah, I told you lots of things, I know. But you do remember the bit about the feelings, yes? About how what you feel is important too? And that you shouldn't feel bad for... feeling things?"

John looked away as fast as a lightning and shook his head. "Not the same, Paulie. George's not my family, he's a friend. Mimi's... You know how she is. That was a whole different situation", he explained, waving his arms at Paul.

"How come, love?"

"What do you mean "how come"?! It was different! She said that thing about mom and— and she—"

"She hurt you with her words?"

"Yes! See, you know what I mean. She hurt me with her words", John agreed on a mocking tone, but Paul could see he didn't feel comfortable saying it outloud. He nodded and gave John a second before attacking again in the most caring tone he could give.

"And didn't George hurt you with his words, too?"

John was silent for a moment, and then he looked at Paul as if he had just turned into a green lemour. "What are you on about? He didn't hurt me. That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Yes, Macca, for fuck's sake! I don't care what he says to me or how he says it, what I care about is that he is right! That song is crap and all my songs are crap and I'm crap! I'm a crappy musician and a crappy friend and a crappy son and a crappy boyfriend and a crappy human being! Alright?!"

Oh, well, he had finally snapped. Paul couldn't say he hadn't been expecting it. He let a sigh and looked for John's look, but he was once again avoiding his stare. No, he wasn't having any of that.

"Look at me", he said in a soft but firm tone, and John complied after a couple of seconds. This time, though, he put both his hands in his cheeks and forced him to look straight to him, no excuses. "Listen to me very carefully, John Winston Lennon. You. Are. Not. Crap. I hear you saying that one more time and I kick you down the stairs, you hear me?", he asked, and the look he gave John assured him he was serious. He nodded, his cheeks pressed against Paul's palms. "A human being, that's what you are. A beautiful, complex, profound, intelligent, bright, lovable human being. You make mistakes, sure you do, but who doesn't? It's not bad to be wrong, or to do the bad thing, or to choose the wrong choice. It's fine, love, your mistakes don't define you as a person— your actions do. And let me tell you, I wouldn't be dating you if you weren't the most caring, loving, passionate, amazing person I've ever met", he added. He gave John a soft look and a small smile and tilted his head a little bit, seeing his eyes water a bit. "You won't always find what you're looking for and sometimes people won't like your music, so what? That's part of the journey, baby. Sure, George could have chosen some better words. He is dumb like that sometimes, doesn't always think before talking. That doesn't mean all your music is bad, love, he just didn't like that one. He is allowed to not like all your songs same way you're allowed to dislike some of his. It's alright, it's not the end of the world. It's alright."

After that last whisper, John shut his eyes closed and took a deep breath. A few seconds went by, and Paul saw some tairs start to come down his face. He let go of his cheeks and embraced him with his arms, holding him tight, making him now he wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry, I— I'm sorry", he heard him murmur against his neck, his breath sending shivers down his spine. "I'm so sorry, I— I just— sometimes I just feel too much and—"

"Shh, love, I know. I know. It's fine, you know I know, it's alright. It's alright, Johnny, it's alright."

"I— I don't think all my music is crap, you know", he murmured after a few moments of just standing there, holding one another in the kitchen. "I just— I'd put a lot of effort into that song and... I... I guess it did hurt. A little bit", he added in a whisper, and Paul just had to smile.

"Of course it did, love. Nobody likes it when people say bad things about things we care about. I'm sure it's a great song, just not George's style. That's it."

John hummed in agreement, calming donw more a more as minutes went by, and Paul let himself relax in his arms for a bit.

"Oh, and for the record", he said, tearing apart from John to see his face. "You are the most amazing boyfriend I could've asked for... Just in case you were wondering."

John laughed rather shyly and stared at Paul. "Even when I interrupt your cooking with a mental breakdown because a friend was a meanie?"

It was Paul's turn to laugh then, and he shook his head before giving John's lips a little peck. "Specially then, love", he whispered with their foreheads pressed.

That wasn't the last time John had a midnight crisis, and it wasn't the last time he felt like his world was crumbling because of something someone said without thinking. Maybe one day he'd stop caring about other people's opinions, and maybe he wouldn't. Either way, he wouldn't take that path alone, and it was alright.

It really was.

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first story in ao3 and I'm absolutely 100% confident that I'm not sure at all I want to publish this now but if I don't do it now I might never do it sO let's just jump into the pool how about that
> 
> english is not my first language, so if anyone notices a mistake feel free to point it out!
> 
> anYrOaD hope you liked it!


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